CHAPTER 13
~Reese~
I HAVE NO idea how I get myself into these situations, but I somehow do. Less than an hour later, I’m sitting in a hot tub, dressed only in my panties, on Vinnie’s rooftop deck.
We have champagne and a beautiful star-filled night. Resting my head back, I’m staring into the dark blue yonder, when Vinnie says pouting, “You didn’t get Leo’s number. He only got yours. I want him, Candy, and you failed me.”
“To walk the runway for you or for you personally?”
“Both,” he says sassily.
Laughing, I reassure him, “Don’t worry. We know where he works. But I’m sure he’ll call and then I’ll get his number for you.”
“Well, aren’t you little Miss Confident tonight?”
“Yes, when it comes to him. It’s obvious he was interested or he wouldn’t have chased me down. Anyway, men are easy to read.”
“Except when it comes to Model Danny,” he retorts.
“Touché. You let me drink too much. You know I can’t handle my booze.”
“I know, which is why I got this bottle of champagne out.”
I laugh, but then I’m speaking before I can stop myself, “Can I tell you a secret?” The bubbles must be going to my head.
Vinnie is sitting across from me. Fortunately, he’s wearing a bathing suit. “You can tell me anything, Candy. My lips are sealed, a vault of steel.”
“I know Danny Weston.”
“Yes. I know. I was there when you met him.”
Lifting my head up, I look at him and swallow hard, afraid I’m making a bad decision by telling him this secret. This is the only secret I’ve ever been good at keeping. It’s by far the most personal and breaks me little by little when I think about it, so I don’t think about it. I’ve buried it. Until two months ago. “No, I know him know him.”
Excitedly, he bolts upright and points at me, the water splashing me in the process. “I knew it. I knew you had sex with him.”
“No, not that. I didn’t.” An image of the first time we were ever together, the first time we had sex, flashes. “Well I did, but it’s not what you think.”
His disappointment is palpable as he relaxes back and fills his champagne glass. “So you didn’t have sex in LA?”
“I didn’t. But I need to talk to someone and I know I can trust you.”
“Of course you can. Now spill your darkest secret and I’ll share some of mine, but that’s for another night because I have a closet of doozies.”
Vinnie makes me smile, something I’ve become quite addicted to. It had been too long since I had felt so happy around someone. “Danny and I dated in college.”
Champagne covers my face and chest as my hands go out to protect myself. “Oh my God!”
When the champagne spray stops, I open my eyes only to be met with Vinnie’s wide as a saucer eyes. “You used to date Model Danny?”
It doesn’t sound so much like a question but a reaction, a very strong, shocked reaction. Nevertheless, he’s staring at me waiting for an answer. “I did.” I start sweating, feeling a bead roll down my spine. “Has the water gotten hotter?”
“No.” He checks the temperature gauge. “I think it’s your conscience.”
“Most likely.” I suddenly regret saying anything. This was best left buried, but now I’m stuck in the middle of my past that feels a lot like quicksand, burying me instead.
“Are you going to make me drag this out of you?”
Sighing because it’s too late to take back the confession, I say, “We dated in college. I thought we would get married one day.”
“That’s a pretty serious relationship.”
“Yes, I thought so too, but it didn’t work out.” Annnnnnd scene. Maybe he’ll get that there is no more to tell.
“No. No, the story doesn’t just end like that. I need more. Like how long did you date? How did you meet? How big is he? And how did it end?”
“How big is he? You just slipped that right in there, didn’t you?”
“No, but he slipped it in… or was it too big to slip in?”
With both hands, a full on splash assault begins. “Ew.”
“There’s nothing ew about Model Danny.”
Lowering my weapons, I reach for my champagne thinking I’m going to need a lot more to get through this conversation without full-blown mortification setting in. “No kidding.” I finish half the glass and hold it out for a top off. As he fills my glass, I decide it’s too late. I opened this can of worms. So I need to let all those worms out, free them so to speak. “We met at a party when we were juniors in Nebraska.”
“Nebraska? Why is that so hot?”
“I have no idea.” I sit back, letting my legs float in front of me. With my elbows propped on the sides I let it all out. “We saw each other across the room…”
I knew who he was. Everyone on campus knew who Danny Weston was. He’s tall, handsome, funny. I didn’t know this firsthand, of course, but I’d heard people talking about him. One time in the library at a table behind the one I had my books spread all over while I researched a biology paper due the next day, I over heard a girl say, “He’s the best sex I ever had.”
Her friend remarks, “For you, that’s saying something.”
I laugh, but quickly cover my mouth so they don’t think I’m laughing from their conversation. I lamely point at the book in front of me and mumble something about tree frogs being hilarious. They either don’t hear me or don’t care because they keep talking, but lower their voices. “He’s big, like really big.”
“How big?” her friend asks excitedly. It gets quiet and then she adds, “Whoa?”
Hand gestures. She’s making hand gestures. And because I’m curious, my head whips around to see the first girl holding her hands apart. Catching me, she makes a snide comment, “Excuse you. This is a private conversation.”
“Sorry,” I reply, my face heated, mortification covering it. But as I stare straight ahead, I blush for very different reasons. The very thought…
Vinnie is awestruck. “Oh my Mary!” He holds his hands apart, matching mine. I see his Adam’s apple bob and he licks his lips. “That’s like a good f—”
“I know! Believe me. I know.” I take a large sip of champagne. God, do I know.
“How long were you together?”
Searching for answers amongst the stars, I say, “Two years. It just kind of fizzled out.”
“There was no fizzling from what I saw in LA. It was full sizzle.”
“Sizzle. No fizzle.” I snort-laugh.
And then again, the bubbles are tickling my throat.
“Honey, you might be done for tonight. As much as I want all the answers to the millions of questions about your sex-dezvous with that hunk of a man, you need water and bed.”
“I’m fine. More than fine, fine like Daniel Big Earl Weston.”
“Earl? That’s a boner killer.”
“Killer is right. He was called Big Earl for a reason.” I try to wink but it’s like a double wink. I’m too toasty for winking anyway, so I go back to the very fond memories I have of Big Earl. “My va-j never stood a chance.” Standing up, with my arms in the air, I yell, “Hello New York City! Wooooohooooo!”
“You have spectacular titties, but you do realize you’re topless, right?”
“I don’t even care.” I do a little footwork to music that’s only playing in my head.
Vinnie stands up and takes me by the hips. “Yep, time for bed. C’mon. Get down from there before you wipe out, Candy girl.” I sit on the edge and swing my legs out. He climbs out behind me as I walk to the edge to look over, but he comes up behind me, wraps a towel around my back, and redirects me back toward the apartment. “This way.”
“You’re sleeping here.”
I follow him down the stark white hall, which seems to be in contrast to everything Vittori the designer stands for. He leads me into a bedroom that is solid purple. Purple everything. Even the numbers on the alarm clock are purple. I don’t know whether to lie on the bed or run for my life. “It’s very purple-y.”
“It’s Vittori purple.”
I lie on the bed with the towel still wrapped around me while he messes about the room. With my eyes closed, I slip one foot onto the floor and rest my arm on my forehead. All the lightheartedness has left my heart. “I loved him. I loved him so much.”
He sits next to me, kisses my arm, and drops a pair of pajamas on my stomach. “I can tell he loved you too.” The lamp next to me is turned off and I watch him at the door. He stops. “Put on the jammies, go to sleep, and get some rest.”
I do what I’ve done every night since I walked away ten years ago. I try to block out the memories, wipe the tears away, and fall asleep. But the night of his first confession haunts my dreams…
That night in bed, I watch Danny sleep. The snow falls outside on this cold winter’s night, but I can feel the ice forming inside. I’ve been naïve. I hadn’t thought about him kissing other women while “working.” I hadn’t considered what else he might have to do for a job besides model clothes. But now I do. Now it is all I can think about.
I let the kiss go, not asking anymore questions about it. I don’t want to know anymore. My heart won’t be able to handle it. I trust him. I trust in us.
It is only work.
A job.
Nothing more.
I close my eyes and imagine the most beautiful woman in the world kissing my boyfriend—a blonde beauty opposite of me in so many ways, so beautiful that I lose him.
Gulping down the image, I open my eyes again and watch him as tears blur my vision. Change is coming and if I try to stop it, I become the bad guy. If I accept it, what will we become?
I’ve never been patient. I didn’t get to where I am by sitting around and hoping for things to happen in life. I go after them. Everything from the university I attend to my scholarships. The only thing that came easily to me was Danny and now he’s slipping away into the unknown, and I hate the unknown.
My fingers dance over his shoulder light enough not to wake him. Leaning forward, I kiss him there. I love having him home, but I’m already wondering when he’ll leave me again.
Christmas passes and Danny doesn’t go home with me. I remain at my parents’ home until I decide to return to school on New Year’s Eve. Tired of being alone, I ring in the New Year with my friends at a local bar. Danny had left a message that he wouldn’t make it back to me in time for the traditional kiss. Who needs one anyway? I drink another shot thinking about how he was stuck in New York City, probably with a hot blonde model to help him ring in the New Year instead.
Standing in the middle of the bar, in the middle of the revelers, I’m alone. At 12:01 a.m. I go back to my dorm. Not his. His place is his, and being there makes me feel lonelier. The smell of him and his cologne is fading and I can’t bear to find out if it’s gone. Something that had given me comfort now makes me sad.
Fortunately, my roommate is staying with her boyfriend tonight, so I have the place to myself.
The second message he leaves comes before I have a chance to catch the call. I reach for the phone, but he’s gone. I listen to the voicemail, but my heart has already turned cold on the whole celebration. By two a.m. I’ve cried enough that exhaustion sets in and sleep comes easier.
I stir before dawn and turn, right into his arms. Without opening my eyes, I snuggle closer, his scent easing the pain from my body. “You’re late.”
“I’m here now.”
* * *
MY OUTFIT IS sexy. From the second I laid eyes on it, I had to have it. I was more than willing to pay the inflated prices for the designer duds once I tried it on. I wouldn’t even need alterations, so I’d save there. It was stunning and made me feel more so last night when I wore it for the first time.
At eight thirty in the morning getting out of a cab in front of my apartment building wearing it while everyone leaving for work is wearing suits and Chanel, I don’t feel so stunning anymore. I feel cheap. I just wish it were for the reasons they’re all concocting in their heads while I walk into the lobby shamefully.
I wave to the doorman, feeling like he’s judging me all the way to the elevator when I’m sure he barely notices me among the morning crowd. The elevator door opens on my floor and I slip off the heels and walk barefoot to my apartment. As soon as it’s unlocked, I slip inside and lock it behind me. When I turn around, I scream, covering my mouth.
I don’t give Keaton a chance to speak. “Fuck! You scared me.”
He stands from the barstool and comes toward me. “Swearing is classless. You’re better than that, Reese.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I came over last night.” He holds up the key I gave him back when we were happy, or I stupidly thought we were happy. I’m sure he was already fucking around on the side. “I wanted to apologize for the restaurant. I felt bad. I don’t like who I’ve become lately. I miss you. You gave me balance. You made me happy.”
“You wouldn’t know it by what you said last night.” I walk into my bedroom, knowing he’s not leaving until he says what he came here to say. I’ve learned this lesson the hard way.
“That’s what I mean,” he says, following me. “I don’t want to talk to you like that. I don’t want to treat you like that.”
I set my shoes on the shelf and unzip the dress and let it slip down. He appears in the door of my closet and I jump again. Covering myself with my hands, I warn, “Stop sneaking up on me and turn around.”
“I just loved you so much. I still love you.” He’s leaning against the wall just outside the closet, and with my robe in hand I stop to listen to what has turned into a plea. There’s something different in his voice, something more than he usually gives away. Real emotions? “I want to be with you.” As soon as I walk out bundled in my robe, he says, “I want to marry you, Reese. I’m a better man because of you.”
Besides the shock of his confession, my heart softens under his desperation, so I try to be honest, but kind. “Keaton, we’re not meant to be together. I’m sorry, but we’re not.” I go back into the living room and open the door. “I understand you’re hurting right now, but I was hurting back then. I’m proof you will heal. You will get over me.”
“I’m not getting over you. I won’t. I can’t.”
“You need to.” I open the door wider. “And you need to leave now.”
He leans against the island, not looking like he’s leaving anytime soon. “Were you with someone last night? You came home looking like you’ve been fucked. Did you let some guy treat you like that?”
“I thought swearing was classless?”
“So are you by your appearance this morning.”
And here we go. This is where it turns ugly, but I keep my voice even, knowing if I yell it will only escalate. “Then there’s nothing keeping you here.”
Standing up, he crosses his arms. “Why are you so stubborn? Fine, you had sex with someone else. I don’t care. But I want you to see how good we are together.”
“We’re not together, Keaton.”
“Then let me show you how good we can be again.”
This conversation reminds me of Danny, which I’m pretty sure wasn’t intended. “I’m too tired to have this conversation. Please. I’m exhausted. Please leave.” Holding out my hand, I add, “And leave my key.”
He walks past me. “I think I’ll hold on to it a little longer.”
“Just make this easy and don’t make me change the locks.”
“You’re going to see how good we are. We’re not just good on paper. We can be good together in life. We are a perfect match, Reese.”
I take offense to that statement though it wasn’t meant as an insult.
“We like the same things.”
“No, I never liked the ballet. You did and you only liked it for the business being conducted before the curtain went up.”
“Okay, tennis. We played that all the time.”
“Because I wanted to bond with you. But you made that impossible because of your need to belittle me in front of your so-called friends at the club.”
His shoulders slump in defeat. “I took you to see that country singer.” He points at me accusingly. “And that was just for you because I think he sucks.”
“You did. I will give you that, but it was hard to hear him sing through your constant complaining.” Worst night ever.
He doesn’t take kindly to my remark. “Look, Reese. I’ve been good to you. More than generous with my wealth—”
“I never cared about your money. I know all the women in your life circle you like sharks, but they can have it all. I’d rather have something real, like a—”
“Like a yacht? You’ve got it. I’ll buy one today and name it The Reese.”
Shaking my head, I realize… or more like remember, that speaking to him in any terms that he doesn’t understand, such as love, devotion, passion, none of it computes with him. Three of the many reasons why I think he’s still single at thirty-eight. Emotions don’t register. In his world, money talks, and when it does, he always listens. Something he never did with me. The one thing my mom always told me to look for in a partner. She’s passed and it’s as if I’ve forgotten the life lessons she left me with.
No more. Refusing to be belittled by him, to be intimidated and manipulated by his lies, I open the door wider. Hint, hint. “I’m going to sleep, so again, I’m asking nicely. Please leave.”
That desperation from earlier is back in his tone. “I’ll go, but you need to know that I will protect what’s mine.”
“I’m not yours.” I never was, I add silently, not wanting to fight with him.
His back is to me as he walks down the hall to the elevator. “I’ll see you on Monday, bright and early.”
I slam the door closed even though I know it won’t give me the same satisfaction it used to. Shoot! I didn’t get my key. Beyond being physically tired, I’m now emotionally drained. I’ll get a reference from the doorman next time I’m down there for a locksmith. Pulling my robe tighter around me, I get a large glass of water and retrieve my phone from my purse. The decision has already been made—binge-watching a cop drama series will commence as I spend the day recovering. Maybe they’ll teach me how to hide a body in Manhattan.
Two episodes in, my phone buzzes with a new text. When I pick it up, I notice I’ve missed several. All from Danny.